This was a challenge from Gater101, my bud from ERHQ. Hope you like.
Write a ficlette on the first image that springs to your mind when you read this line:
"A ship is floating in the harbur now, a wind is hovering o'er the mountains brow"
He gazed up from his book, the images still flickering over his lids. The breeze ruffled his already unruly hair and cooled the sweat that beaded on his brow, its fingers lifting the pages on his book and making the blades of grass hiss above his head.
Sighing he upended the book and placed it beside him, standing to stretch his long limbs after their lengthy spell tucked under him. Squinting out to the horizon he could see a tall yacht slip silently past the mouth of the bay he was perched in. This, his secret hideaway, was perfect. Its sands the colour of honey, specked every so often with glorious shells left by the ocean as little presents just for him. The cliffs sloped upward above him, topped with long grass the kind of green you only dreamt about. So many times had he tumbled in those grasses, running from his brother as they played. Danger was never an issue; they were born here and knew the land layout too well for it to harm them.
It had been years since he had visited the cove and he wondered why he had waited so long. As he slipped off his sandals and slid his tanned feet deep into the warm sand he knew he couldn't leave again. As the sun licked at his unclothed torso he smiled slightly, knowing he'd be sore tomorrow but not caring. Here it was easy not to care, so easy not to worry.
He trotted towards the lapping ocean, stopping just short for a second to gaze out once more. The yacht was gone and the horizon was beautifully empty, a perfect compromise between ocean and sky. As he stepped into the warm shallows the waves pushed up to his ankles then pulled away to leave the very tips on his toes covered. He loved the gentle tickle of the water and he strode in, gasping slightly as the cooler water rushed up the leg of his shorts. With a gulp of clear air he dove in a perfect movement to join the fish below the surface. His large hands pulled him through the crystal water, his strong legs kicked out behind him to propel him faster. He swam until his lungs were screaming then he exploded through the surface and sucked in the warm air. Shaking the water from his eyes he turned and began a slower swim back to shore, enjoying the warmth from the sun on his back yet the coolness of the water on his chest.
He wondered if any place in the world could be more perfect than here, in this haven of silence on the Adriatic coast.
And as the breeze dried the water on his body to a salty second skin, he decided the answer was probably no. Because the only place he thought could be more perfect than here would be anywhere with her.